


Finding Paradise in the Middle of the Desert

by one_blue_eye



Series: To Do or Not To Do [3]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Explicit Language, Fix-It, M/M, Male Slash, Minor Character Death, Romance, Sexual Content, Time Loop, Time Travel Fix-It, Timey-Wimey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-13 19:21:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9137818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_blue_eye/pseuds/one_blue_eye
Summary: Part three of series: To Do or Not to DoWorking title for now... will likely changePlease note that this fic is on temporary haiatus while I'm undergoing cancer treatments. Thanks for your understanding.





	1. The Dating Mentor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ianto’s New Timeline: December 28-29, 2005
> 
> Jack finds a dating mentor.

DECEMBER 28, 2005 - PM

 **JACK CAME HUFFING AROUND THE CORNER** , went straight to Tosh’s desk. He needed help. “I think he’s mad.” He was so out of breath that he barely managed to gasp out the words. What he needed was a translator. A 21st Century translator.

 

“How can you tell?” She mumbled. She didn’t even look up. She was always so wrapped up in her latest project. _Help me Tosh!_ He wanted to scream and shake his fists in the air.

 

“Well, he left,” he began. She looked at him closely. He was sweating. His face was flushed. He looked out of breath. “Said I was presumptuous. Said he’d already made plans. Said I’d better look into that concept. Maybe find a tutor.” He looked at her, pleadingly. “Tosh, help me. Why is he mad?” Weariness was settling in. He’d always found this kind of shit exhausting. That’s why he didn’t usually even bother. For Jack, ‘relationship’ had become a dirty word.

 

She took pity on him. Partly because she felt for me and partly because he was a challenge, perhaps even a diversionary project. She looked him up and down. “Did you have a fight?” she asked, finally. He nodded, ran a hand through his dampened hair. She made a _tisking_ sound with her tongue. “You two kind of rushed into things, Jack. You need to do it right.” She resumed typing and scanning but only for a minute. Then she prepared to give him her full attention.

 

“Do what right?” His voice rose an octave. Eyes wide and wild.

 

Orbital roll. “Dating, Jack. Just because you’re shagging doesn’t mean you don’t need to woo.”

 

“I need to woo?” Up another octave.

 

“Hell, ya.” She sighed. This was going to take some work. “He’s a 21st Century boy. You need to learn our ways if you want to keep him happy.” Amusement was clearly seeping through, her words were dripping with it. “Well, keep him period I’d say.” She knew Jack was from another time, she just didn’t know which one. There was one thing she was certain of though, and that was the fact that Jack absolutely sucked at interpersonal relationships. In **_any_** time period.

 

Jack blanched at her last comment. He hadn’t wanted to keep anyone around, not for a very long time. But he’d begun to feel differently about me over the last few weeks. He’d had a crisis while I’d been away. He knew he had to make a choice. He could’ve followed normal procedure—had casual shags when and wherever he wanted—kept his heart closed. Safe. Simple. But ever since I’d come into his life—for the second time—he’d felt an unfamiliar spark. The rules had changed. He wasn’t waiting for the Doctor anymore. He wasn’t sure what he was doing anymore. The rules had changed. And it was all because of me. “All right.” He made a decision. “So I’ve gotta woo. I can do that. What about tonight? What’s that all about?” He was g enuinely lost. He didn’t even have a starting place as a point of reference.

 

She shrugged, considered the facts. “He’s mad because you took his presence for granted.” It was clear as day—hard to believe he couldn’t see it. She may suck at actual human interaction but she was a master of observation. Plus, she felt like she was getting close to me. She had a good idea what my little rant was all about.

 

“How did I do that?” He protested, lamely.

 

“Did you make plans?” She asked quickly, like a Drill Sergeant.

 

“No.” He admitted, reluctantly.

 

“Did he tell you he wanted to go out tonight?” Drill Sergeant Tosh threw another question at Private Jack.

 

“ _Er_. Yes.” He admitted, now embarrassed for not having paid attention.

 

“Did you, _somehow_ , convey the fact that you expected him to do something with you tonight even though you didn’t make any plans with him?” She morphed into Lawyer Tosh.

 

“Yes.” He gulped. It had crossed his mind once or twice, that he had no idea how to ‘have a relationship’. And he knew that was exactly what I wanted and wouldn’t settle for anything less.

 

“And that’s why he’s mad.” She announced proudly. She thought for sure he’d get it. Her argument was logically sound. She’d laid it out in simple illustrative steps. A plus B plus C equals D. Clear.

 

“That’s just…” He searched for the word.

 

“Completely understandable.” She held up a hand when he began to sputter. “Remember, you’re living _in this time_ and the rules of social interactions apply. I would be mad too. So would everyone I know,” she added quickly before he could get a word out. When he didn’t respond, she prodded. “Did he actually storm out?” He shook his head. “Did he shout or swear at you?” He shook his head again. She considered. “Sounds like he’s sending you a warning shot.” He frowned, confused. “It’s not too serious.” She held up a hand in warning. “But if you do it again, you’ll be in deep shit, Jack.”

 

He leaned down over her desk, resting most of his weight on the trembling structure. “I need some help, Tosh. I need you to write that manual for me.”

 

 _Damn him_ , he was serious. She groaned. “How about we take it one subject at a time? As they arise?” She smiled hopefully.

 

He smiled and nodded in agreement. He told her he’d be eternally grateful, and that was saying something. Never underestimate an immortal IOU.

 

DECEMBER 29, 2005 - AM

 **JACK STEADIED HIMSELF, PULLED HIS SHOULDERS BACK** and walked with confidence towards me. He smiled a tight painful smile, and in his most cheerful voice, he asked, “Did you have a nice evening?”

 

“Yes, it was great.” I smiled graciously. “Thank you for asking.” I’d worn my favorite suit today paired with a sexy new blood red silk shirt. No tie. A few buttons open. Let the punishment begin. I maintained the appropriate air of professionalism, as always but there was a distance between us and I’m sure Jack felt it.

 

Jack grimaced. This was some kind of code. Some kind of social dance. A trap even. He needed that manual dammit. He wanted to search out Tosh but he forced himself to remain steady.

 

He was making an effort so I gave him a break. “Oh, and the Inspector wants to meet you,” I told him. “I thought maybe we could go out to dinner,” I suggested after a beat. “Sometime soon?” I was hopeful.

 

Jack gulped. _Now, he wants me to meet his surrogate father. Shit!_ He was a fish out of water. And he was swimming up shit creek. “That sounds nice?” He ventured. His voice rose at the end. He looked so unsure. I couldn’t contain the grin. It cracked the edge of my face. I squeezed my lips together to fight the smile bubbling there. I turned away and squeezed my eyes shut. When I opened them, I saw Tosh staring at me. She was pleading for mercy with her eyes. I turned around and smiled at Jack.

 

“Thank you, Jack.” I stepped closer. I felt a little bad about ditching him the night before. A little. “I really appreciate it. He’s been asking for a while now and I’ve been putting him off.” I’d been holding off alright. I hadn’t actually admitted to ‘seeing’ my boss to the Inspector until a few weeks ago. I hadn’t told Rhi yet either. I guess I’d been waiting to see how things turned out.

 

Jack waffled. Took a chance. “Why’s that?” Was it a dangerous question? He didn’t know. _Manual. Manual. Manual_. He chanted. The word echoed inside his brain.

 

Careful now. “I figured you needed some time.” Not too much honestly. He’ll freak. His eyes scrunched together. I took a chance and told him the truth. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured to meet my family.” I blurted. He relaxed—saw I was struggling too. He thanked the Goddess of Mercy for not being the only one bumbling around in the forest. I started to second-guess myself, him, us. Maybe it was too soon. “Listen, if you really don’t want to meet him I’ll—”

 

“No. No, it’s fine.” He stepped closer, his hand grazed mine. “Really,” he said, looking deep into my eyes. His hand slid up my arm. “I’d like to meet him.” It stopped on my shoulder, where he squeezed gently. He looked into my eyes searchingly. “He’s important to you?” he asked. I nodded. “So, I’d like to meet him.” He finished and I remembered to breath. I’d been holding my breath.

 

I sighed, relieved. “Thanks, Jack.” I smiled, weakened. I leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek. The one on his face.

 

I had a pile of reports to file so I told him I’d talk to him later and headed for the archives. Jack immediately sought out Tosh, desperate for that manual. When their eyes met, she smiled and held two thumbs up. He shook his head and squinted—couldn’t believe he got through that. “Seriously? That was good?” She nodded, emphatically. “That felt horrible,” he groaned. He ran a hand through his hair. “I need that damn manual Tosh. _Seriously_.” He gave her a look that said he meant business.

 

DECEMBER 29, 2005 - EVENING

 **LAUNDRY NIGHT.** I kind of love it. A fact that I’m rather embarrassed about. It’s one of the best ways to sooth my hectic thoughts. It’s the process—a ritual, if you will. Sort each item into the correct pile. Switch a few items around strategically when the greyish pile was too small to fill the washer. Socks and underwear always go first. I’m out. Wearing nothing but my oldest t-shirt and a pair of threadbare pyjama bottoms. _Fire trucks_. The washer fills. The water splashes and gurgles. I toss in the soap and watch it suds. Then, in go my socks and underwear. Close the lid. Turn up the music. Dance around the kitchen while the kettle boils. The minute the washer finishes I run and pull out the soggy rags and transfer them to the dryer. Now, that’s a sound. The heat and the tumble. Soothing. I could make a nest right beside it, on the floor. I could fall into oblivion so easily here. Next to the dryer.  I threw in another load. Resumed my dancing around the kitchen. But my little ritual was interrupted abruptly when the doorbell rang. I muttered, turned down the music and went to see who it was.

 

It was Jack. Jack was at my door. Jack was holding a small bouquet of flowers. Jack was smiling sheepishly. If he got anymore sheepish, he’d sprout white curly fur.  After a moment of utter shock and more than a little disbelief, I invited him in. Now it was my turn at sheepish. I looked down—barefoot, threadbare, scruffy, hooligan. “It’s laundry night,” I explained.

 

“What?” He checked me out. “You look great. _Relaxed_.” He smiled. “It’s nice.” He wiggled the flowers in the air. He was obviously asking what he should do with them.

 

“Here. I’ll put them in water.” I took out a little vase. “Thank you, by the way. It’s very thoughtful of you, Jack.” I thought about the possible reasons for such a gesture. He’d never done it before. It put me on edge.

 

“I thought you deserved an apology. For the other night. I wanted to say sorry for taking you for granted.” He’d practiced the words over and over again—in front of Tosh, in front of the mirror, in the car on the way over. They still sounded weird. Uncomfortable.

 

Never mind weird. Wow. I sputtered. “Th.. thank you Jack.” Wow.

 

We sat at the kitchen table. I made us some coffee in my new press. His hand wiggled across the table, covering the distance between us. He caressed my hand. Ran a fingertip over the sensitive skin on the top of my hand. I totally lost it. I got up and pulled his chair out from under the table. He tried to get up but I pushed him back down into the chair. I leaned in, captured his lips. Devoured his mouth. Slid my tongue around his. Closer. I needed to be closer. I straddled him. It was the only way. I wrapped my limbs around him. I revelled in the moans he made. Then the buzzer went. I grinned. Stood up. Went to switch the loads. Jack was left, bereft. Shocked and confused. When I came back into the kitchen I didn’t resume my straddle. I took his hand and led him to the bedroom.


	2. Safe Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ianto’s New Timeline: December 30, 2005
> 
> Jack guides Ianto through his psychic training and Tosh guides Jack through the forest.

DECEMBER 30, 2005 - 10 AM

 **“GRRR.” I GROWLED.** I actually growled, in frustration.

 

Jack chuckled and kept chuckling even after I threw a killer look his way. “Try again,” he said for the millionth time.

 

I frowned, narrowed my eyes and focussed, again. My eyes slid closed and I took a deep relaxing breath. I began by constructing my safe place. For me, it was a slow, tedious process. It seemed like it was taking longer than ever. Pain is an incredibly motivating factor. It doesn’t improve precision or ability, mind.  It just makes you more afraid to fuck up. Hence, the longer construction time. But he waited patiently, with a serene expression that did nothing to help my concentration. I kept imagining that expression on his face in other places, doing other things. I leaned against the wall, only a pillow between me and that cold, hard, rough surface. It was soothing, that wall. I smirked. I liked that wall. I’d developed a rather intimate relationship with that wall. Spent a lot of quality time being fucked up against it. My smirk grew—overtook my face—completely ruined my concentration. I started again.

 

I’d come to accept the fact that these thoughts had a home in my mind, a permanent one. They weren’t going anywhere. I figured it would be better to accept them as a part of my being. So I let them float and wander. They had a home here, where we sat, as well. In the sex pit, under Jack’s office. Ah… the sex pit.

 

I don’t usually refer to it as the sex pit and I’ve certainly never said that aloud. And certainly not in Jack’s presence. He doesn’t need any more ammunition. It helped, being in the pit, leaning up against that wall, while I constructed my safe place in the bowels of my mind. Jack insists that it needs to be an immediate reaction. Think ‘safe place’ and I should immediately see my safe place, fully constructed. So I catalogued, created and organized the objects that belong in my safe place. He keeps asking me if I want to move somewhere more comfortable and I just smile. He doesn’t realize. I don’t think I’ll tell him, just yet. He doesn’t need any more ammunition.

 

I opened my eyes, felt completely calm. Nodded. His chin dipped subtly, acknowledging. Then, very slowly, I felt him slither in. First, there was an itch. Then, a tingling. It was the scrambling that was disconcerting. I retreated reflexively but I held down the fort. Kept my walls up. My safe place has a door, a very small door. The only way in. Jack was scrambling around the perimeter, feeling his way, searching for a weak spot.

 

He’s quite good. I am not. Which never goes down well. I hate _sucking_. Just pisses me off. He’s been able to find a crack every time. Even before he finds the door. Infuriating. But I was rocking it this time. Since I stopped trying to push the sexual thoughts away, gave them a home, my walls had bolstered.  I felt him push. I tensed. This was usually the time I started screaming. The tension was all encompassing, all consuming. For the first time in over a week, I wasn’t screaming at his first mental push. He keeps insisting that he’s not pushing hard which makes me feel worse. Only because I know he’s telling the truth.  We don’t talk during these sessions. That sends me screaming too. Obviously, in a real life situation, this won’t be practical. He keeps telling me I’ll improve. _Give it time. Try again_. That’s his mantra this week. _Try again._

 

My body started shaking. I felt a trickle of sweat bead on my temple, on my spine. I kept my eyes closed, tight. His goal was to circle, inspect then find the door. This was the closest we’d ever come. I was burning calories like a stair-climber. My body was almost empty. I needed to refuel. In the last week, I’d eaten an inordinate amount of food. I was getting a better workout than I ever got exercising at that ridiculous sweat lodge they call a gym—sorry, Fitness Center. The itch was turning into a burning. The scrambling was getting a little too sharp. He was pushing again. Bastard. I wanted him to just find the damn door so I could take a break—and not end up screaming. I jerked. He found it. But the instant he tried to slip through everything changed. Something came crashing down and everything fell apart. And then came the screaming. I heard Tosh above in Jack’s office, bending over the hole, checking in on me. I heard Jack, talking softly, soothing. Man, that really knacks. Once I was able to speak, I asked, “What happened?”

 

Something flickered in his eyes, just for a moment then it disappeared. “I think… you slammed your defenses down.” He was bent in front of me, trying to get a good look at my eyes. My pupils were dilated, like black saucers. But not in a good way—no drugs, lust or sex—just pain. “I felt the wall. It was good.” He smiled, reassuring. “It felt different, much stronger. When I found the door I tried to slip in but I got thrown out.” I looked at him, the shock apparent on my face. “Really.” He nodded and smiled. “I’m guessing you didn’t do that on purpose. But that is exactly what you’re supposed to do when someone tries to slip in.”

 

“Is it always going to hurt like this?” The sex pit was spinning like a Ferris Wheel sans annoying music and scary clowns.

 

“No. It won’t. It hurts because it’s a new muscle. And you don’t know how to use it. So you’re over doing it. But you’re getting better. It just takes time and practice.” I’d heard most of this pep talk before. But I felt a lot better knowing I’d improved, even a little bit.

 

“I’m gasping. Need food and coffee.” My throat was dry and raspy. “Right now. Not even sure I can make it up there.” I told him. A little over dramatic but true none the less.

 

He smiled, leaned forward. His first kiss was firm and quick. Then he nipped hungrily at my bottom lip and his eyes told me he wanted more. “Stay right here. I’ll get you food and I’ll do my best with the coffee.” I shook my head, begging and pleading with my eyes. “Or I could ask Tosh to make the coffee?”

 

I smiled. “Thank you,” I whispered. If I weren’t so damn tired, I’d have thrown him down and had my way with him. But all I could do was whisper.

 

DECEMBER 30, 2005 - PM

 **“HE SAID I DIDN’T HAVE TO WOO HIM.** He was impressed with the flowers and the apology. Just like you said. He also said he wasn’t a bird or a chick or something.” He chuckled and shook his head slightly. He’d have to ask about the bird reference later. Jack steepled his hands under his chin and looked at her with something akin to admiration. He sat behind his desk looking at his dating mentor appraisingly for a moment before he continued. “You’re good. How’d you know what he was gonna say and how he’d react?”

 

“It’s a typical response. That’s all.” She smiled warmly at her pupil. His praise sent a wash of pleasure through her that all but radiated from her skin. She sat primly in the visitor’s chair, her back straight, her ankles crossed demurely under her chair and a faint blush rose on her face and neck. She loved helping Jack. She felt useful, knowledgeable and masterful. She rarely felt like that around Jack. She knew her tech but that was about it. Usually, she had to run behind him just to catch up. But he’d come to her. Asked her—begged her—for help. It made her feel wonderful to be needed and appreciated.

 

She got to see a side of him she’d never seen before. He’d never allowed himself to be vulnerable in front of anyone—not once—not since she’d met him. He’d come to her for guidance and it felt like they were becoming friends.

 

“I think he really liked the flowers,” he mused, thinking back to the night before. He’d been so nervous about making that stupid apology. He’d been shocked by my easy acceptance and by my subsequent reaction. If that’s all it took well… he couldn’t believe it took him this long to figure out the benefits of making an apology. I’d shagged him senseless. His skin was still humming in remembrance. He fancied he could still taste me on his lips. He could still feel my hot, slick skin sliding over his. He could still hear the naughty, dirty, filthy things dripping from my lips…

 

Tosh could see he was lost in his thoughts. His eyes were glazing over. They were obviously very good thoughts. But damn if it wasn’t getting hot in here. She cleared her throat loudly, drawing him back to the present. He started but caught himself before he toppled his chair backwards. He planted his feet firmly on the ground and smirked at her. He clapped his hands and then rubbed them together briskly in anticipation. “So, what’s next Tosh?” He beamed.

 

She smiled and then quirked a thin eyebrow, “Well, I’ve been giving that some thought, Jack.” She leaned forward and told him of her plans.


End file.
